Subject: CODY: MY STRUGGLE Introduction
From: mithryl@walrus.com (Mithryl)
Date: 1996/11/01
Message-Id: <55dbrf$in8@alice.walrus.com>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.prose,alt.sex.stories
MY STRUGGLE:
A Young Girl's Story
By CODY ANN MICHAELS
c. All rights reserved
FOUR WORD
Many of the events and names in the following manuscript are
already ancient history. I speak not of the temple caves of Lascaux or
the Ring of Brodgar, or even the Civil War, but the Dole-Clinton election
campaign of 1996. Who, at this date, remembers Dickie Morris or Carla
Lockwood or Jim Guy Tucker, or even Dole, himself? These and other names,
once so beloved, have become as relevant to history as Rudy Guiliani's
urging of New Yorkers that they cast their ballots in favor of the GOP
standard bearer in the desperate hope that he will not, himself, be
savaged by his brother Republicans in his own hour of need as he attempts
to retain a death grip on the city's jugular.
I am painfully aware that My Struggle: A Young Girl's Story,
although barely a first draft, is already seriously, perhaps hopelessly,
outdated as to be beyond repair. Still, my purpose in posting it here in
its entirety is a response to the kind request s of those who missed parts
of it in the original and have expressed the wish, possibily masochistic,
to read more, and also for any new readers to whom the adventures and
travails of a teenage stripper attempting to write a Beckett-style novel
about an a ging and totally clueless politician may not prove unamusing.
(I love to talk like Murray Kempton.)
What I was trying to do in this book, perhaps not entirely
successfully, was to write something that could be published in polite
society, i.e. that did not turn out to be totally pornographic. However,
since my whole existence seems to be pornographic , at least in the eyes
of those who own the world, this is not easy. In my next try, I hope to
do better.
There is also this: I do not so much write stories as create
vehicles for the discovery of self. The story, itself, is a by-product.
I write about what happens to me, although not necessarily in the same
dimension as the story appears. If someone had told me in August where
and how this book would end, I would have thought them mad.
Here, I would like to thank those who responded to my ad on the
internet or who wrote to me during the course of the book, a number of
whom found themselves being excerpted into it. These included Bill
(William), Rick, Brian Greyhawk, Keith, Michael, Ad der and especially
Peter Thurber Rolling from the Mountains, who's passion and rage often
matched and even far exceeded my own. (My original request for stories is
still open, by the way, as well as for any comments or criticisms you may
want to make abo ut this mss.) Also, I would be totally remiss if I did
not express special thanks and gratitude to my beautiful fiancee, Kelly
Ann Morgan, and my equally gorgeous shrink, Lizabeth Kohl, without who's
love and support my life -- and this book -- would probably be far
different.
This book is dedicated to K.H. and M.L.S.
C.A.M. New York, Nov. 1, 1996
(This work, consisting of a foreword and 22 chapters, 3 epilogues and an
intermezzo, arranged in seven parts, is the property of its author, and
all rights are thereby reserved. Present e-mail address:
mithryl@walrus.com)
*****
SPECIAL NOTICE
For the benefit of the FBI and the security-obsessed: although
this work is intended as a terrorist act, nothing in its various sections
should be taken as or understood to be a threat or an encouragement for
others to make and cast bombs, or to take the life of a human being, those
of any sentient beings, or of politicians and public office holders, no
matter how much they may seem to deserve it. Just don't do it.